The Northern Wastelands
by ChocolatePrime
Summary: This is my own little (possibly big) story / twist from World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King. A Death Hunter, named Iceblood, is out to Fulfill his duty... And perhaps his Destiny. Around the second chapter I will bring in his partner, an Ice Worg/Wolf, DarkJade. What is her secret? Rated T for Violence.


**The Northern Wastelands**

I sunk my heavy boot deep into the crisp, cold snow, and rose my head up slowly to gaze around me. Snowflakes flew brilliantly around me, swirling in a frozen dance, whipping around the terrain. My breath puffed on front of me, freezing and evaporating, mixing into the chaotic beauty of the harsh snowfall. I was surrounded by a white desert, with cliffs around me, close enough to create such a blizzard, yet far enough to hold a small valley. No trees grew here, nothing but the stubborn old oak that blurred in and out of my sight ahead, marking my destination.

I lowered my head once more, and plodded through drifts half-way up my calf, and rising. My hand was raised, to protect my face, as was the thick fur cape around my neck, shoulders, and face. As I grew close, I halted to observe. The oak was humongous, towering above at least eight times my height alone. The branches were bare, nothing on them but snow and bark, whipping violently in the wind. Creaking noises of protest came from it, and I barely heard the sound of advance as my target grew close.

My hand flew to my sword, hanging loyally at my side, waiting for use. I turned my head swiftly to the location of the noise, only to see the horrid sight of my target leaping at me, axe in hand. I swiftly pulled my sword out of its resting place, swinging it upwards to parry its swing. I rotated out of its rebound, swirling around to run my blade through its rotten flesh, smoothly peeling chunks away from the body, acidic goo that the monster called blood gushing out like toxic water over a dam. It roared, making the most horrid noised from its howl, and staggeringly turned to face, me, set in a weakened defence stance. I mimicked its move, and held my sword on front of me. It moved slowly to the right, and I the left, creating a circle in the snow.

I snarled at him – having a closer look at it – and switched my runes to frost, taking advantage over the snowflakes howling for us to go on. My target took this moment to pounce, feigning a move to the left but striking to my right instead. I barely moved out of the way, and had only turned around before it swung horizontally across my gut, if I had not bucked out of the way. As the momentum carried him around, I took the chance and plunged my blade deep inside his lower right ribcage, in the side. That is, if he had a ribcage. He gurgled in rage, and swung around to strike. I pulled out my sword, and leaned back to avoid my beheading.

I reached out with my left hand, as if grasping for a lover, and clenched my fist. Ice swam up my arm and into my body, and into my right arm, then into my sword. I ducked another maddened strike by my opponent, and as I straightened I swung forth my iced blade with all my might. It bit through his left shoulder and exited through his right hip, freezing its flesh as it passed.

While doing so, I had left myself vulnerable, and as my blade finished its undead life, he had swung his final blow, with his axe digging into my upper right back. As undead life drained out of his three eyes (the fourth was a socket), it snarled as I froze, breathing out, condensed water in front of my face, remaining in position as, finally, it perished, and went limp. As gravity dragged his axe out of my body, I breathed again, and stood up to my full height, and closed my eyes. Rolling my shoulders, wincing slightly as it agitated my wound, I lifted my head, and opened my eyes, turning my head to gaze around the northern wastelands I called home, the blizzard howling around me oblivious to the duel.

I was – am – a Death Hunter, and part of the Obsidian Death League, a group of former Cylvron's soldiers, whom strayed from that path, vowing to end him and his risen armies for once and for all. I am a Death Hunter. My name was forgotten in my first death. I gained the designation Iceblood once I was reborn. I am a Death Hunter, a former farmer. And this – killing the undead – is my job.


End file.
